“Positive,” I say, then I kiss off her lip gloss. When I let go, I tip back the flute and drink some, like the very satisfied man I am. Champagne has never tasted better.
She does the same, then adds, “Good. Me too.”
That’s it. That’s all. And maybe it’s just that easy—moving on from the past, and the hurts, and the things you’re afraid of.
Sometimes you just…let them go, one fall evening when your next-door neighbor wears your lucky color.
But as much as I want to spend the night in this bubble with her, I know we’re here to put on a show—a show that hardly feels like one anymore.
Still, I scan the crowd for my mother. I spot her easily in the middle of the room, holding court with some donors, and we make our way to her.
She’s elegant and in charge, but thoughtful too, clearly listening as others chat. When I reach her, she gives me a mama bear hug, then says, “This is my son and his new girlfriend, who I might even like better than I do him.”
I roll my eyes at the mom dig, then introduce my girlfriend to all the people who allegedly wanted to set me up.
I’m not sure if Skylarismy girlfriend. But I am sure this isn’t fake for either one of us anymore.
We stay and make small talk, and as some of the donors chat with Skylar and ask questions about her business—which, of course, dovetails perfectly with my mom’s charity to bring recycling initiatives everywhere—she’s asked for her info for possible work.
Skylar might gain referrals. That’s an outcome I didn’t see coming, but it’s one I love.
As Skylar chats with Kahlia about the work she does, my mother tugs me aside, whispering, “You should marry her.”
I nearly spit out my champagne. “Mom.”
“What? She’s so much better for you than your ex. I knew it from the start. A mother just knows these things,” she says, then sails off to mingle with another donor.
Right as Skylar returns to me.
We’ve done our job for the night, but the night is young—and it’s time to simply enjoy the gala.
We walk away from the crowds, heading for the bar, when I see a mirage.That can’t be. Why is she here?Like a ghost I didn’t summon, my ex-wife strides over in a jet-black dress that brushes the floor, earrings glittering, head tilted with a very curious look on her face.
She locks eyes on me. Then on Skylar.
I grip Skylar’s hand tighter, one thought taking up all the space in my brain—she’s not going to ruin our night.
31
STURDIER THAN A SUITCASE
SKYLAR
Before she even introduces herself, I know who she is. I see it in her gaze. In the possessive way her pretty brown eyes—of course she’s pretty, but I don’t care—roam up and down him.
“Ford, so good to see you,” she says, with a smile so falsely sweet it makes my teeth hurt.
“Brittany,” he says tightly, giving a crisp nod.
But how is he really feeling? What is he thinking? I wish I knew. Does she want to win him back? Fuck her. Not going to happen, lady. Not today. Not on my watch.
Before he can ask why she’s here, Brittany answers the unspoken question. “I’ve become a big supporter of your mother’s charity. I wondered if she’d told you.” She bats her lashes.
Sucking up to his mother? I’m ready to take off my earrings. Instead, I turn to Ford and mouth privately,“Hold my smoothie.”
Then I turn to Brittany. “That’s funny. I’ve had a lot of conversations with Maggie Devon, and she didn’t say a thing about that.”
Ford squeezes my hand, and I feel the touch as athank you.
